The Art of Matchmaking
by damedeleslac
Summary: Fraser/Thatcher drabbles
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

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The Art of Matchmaking.

Chapter One - Ravishing.

"She wants you to fight back."

"Pardon?" Fraser glanced at his father's ghost.

"Argue, disagree, gnash your teeth."

"Gnash my teeth?"

"Don't just stand there and take it," Bob Fraser waved his hand over Inspector Thatcher's desk, "Sweep everything off the desk. Have your way with her!"

"Dad!," Fraser lowered his voice, sliding the filing cabinet draw shut, "I am not going to ravish my commanding officer in her own office, on her own desk."

"Maybe you should. It's not like you're getting any younger."

"What does my age have to do with anything?"

"Nothing... It's just...well..."

"Well what?"

"Sometime Son, in your life time, grandchildren would be very much appreciated."

"Grandchildren?"

"Some polite little dragons running around. To make life interesting."

"Have you been talking to Mrs Vecchio, Dad?"

"You know she can't see or hear me Son," Bob frowned, "No, I was checking in with Buck Frobisher. He's going to be my corporeal stand in."

Benton sighed. "Corporeal stand in?"

"I'm a ghost Son."

"How could I forget?"

Bob ignored him.

"I'll never get the chance to teach my grandson's how to ride, show my granddaughters how to track a man across a glacier. Buck can at least tell them how good I was at that stuff," Bob smiled, "Where would you ravish her Son?"

Tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

The Art of Matchmaking.

Chapter Two – Dancing.

Ray leaned against the railing, watching the ballroom below. Beside him Diefenbaker whined.

"Don't worry, he's doing fine. Hasn't stepped on her toes or torn her dress."

Diefenbaker whined again.

"Stop being so pessimistic; he can figure it out himself."

Dief huffed.

"They're dancing. Dancing's good."

Dief covered his eyes with a paw.

"So long as he ain't talking about his Grandmother's library or some Eskimo tradition, he'll do fine. No need to lock them in a closet or bedroom or nothin'."

The music changed from a stately waltz to a tango and Ray leaned further over the balcony. He nodded conspiratorially at the group blocking Inspector Thatcher's path from the dance floor. As expected Fraser offered her his arm, leading her into the tango.

Diefenbaker rolled his eyes.

Ray shrugged. "We can always lock then in the closet tomorrow."

Tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

The Art of Matchmaking.

Chapter Three – Stalling.

Francesca picked a twenty out of her purse. "You remember the plan?"

The kid rolled his eyes and sighed. "Wait for the two Mounties, and then stall them."

"Where are you stalling them?"

The kid pointed. "Under that doorway."

"How?"

"By any means necessary." The kid snatched the twenty out of Francesca's hand, hiding it before she could snatch it back, "I'll need another five."

"I already paid you."

"$20's for getting them under the mistletoe," He shrugged, "But I got expenses."

"What kind of expenses?"

The kid shrugged again. "Superglue."

Tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

**The Art of Matchmaking.**

**Chapter Four – Listening.  
**

"Now is a perfectly acceptable time to get in there and kiss her."

"We've talked about this."

"It's New Years Eve son," Bob grinned, "If you don't kiss her now, someone else might."

"Dad," Fraser frowned, "I'm not having this conversation again."

"For heaven's sake! Why not?" Bob gestured at the party, "You're sitting out here in the snow, when you could be in there, enjoying the company of a beautiful woman."

"I'm on duty."

"Your shift ended twenty minutes ago," Bob leaned down, appealing to Diefenbaker's romantic side, "He should be inside, finding all those bits of mistletoe 'what's his name' keeps forgetting to take down."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "He's deaf Dad. He can't hear you."

"Selectively deaf," Bob smirked, "Just like my son."

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I have a cat and a room full of books. Almost everything else belongs to someone else. Recognisable characters, TV shows, movies, etc belong to their creators (in some cases otherwise known as god), producers, directors, etc.

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The Art of Matchmaking.

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Chapter Five – Playing.

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Meg Thatcher had never been the Vecchio's home before, which was how Fraser had convinced her that it was the perfect place to stay while he, Ray and Diefenbaker looked for the sniper taking pot shots at woman in positions of power.

The house was a little more crowded than she was used to, but it had a warm, comforting feeling and the smells coming from the kitchen easily compensated for the annoyance she felt for her own feelings of inaction.

One of Ray's nieces, Sophia, held out a doll. "Wanna play?" She asked.

Meg accepted the doll. It had dark hair, wore a red coat and rode a white horse.

"What are we playing?" Meg smiled at her.

Sophia smiled back. "Sir Bennie rescues Princess Meg from the Ice Dragon."

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To be continued…


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